Lost
by Scarlett Sophie
Summary: This is the continuation of the movie. Viola is still on the deserted island, and Will is struggling to find an actor to play Kat in his new production of The Taming of the Shrew...
1. The Aftermath

It was dawn. The sun was just beginning to rise over the slight hill beside which Viola had lain down beside which to sleep. She smiled, and looked around. It was pleasant to sleep outside, however wet with dew you might be the next morning, and she stood and shook her ragged dress to get as much water off as possible.

"What shall I have for breakfast?" she mused aloud, for she had no fear of being overheard. It had been two weeks since she had been on the island, and she knew that she was the only one there. But she didn't mind. She was confident that one day a ship would sail by and she would be rescued, brought back to England, a widow and a wealthy one at that, and she would see Will again. Oh, how she missed him! Him and his plays! Plays were one of the few things she missed while being stuck here. She sighed, remembering the glorious day when she had played Juliet alongside Will. It had been so romantic, and exhilarating. She wished she had been born a boy. Then she would be able to act onstage.

She noticed a patch of mushrooms, and these she picked, knowing that they were not poisonous. She laid them down on a patch of wet grass, then went in search of some other vegetable that she might be able to eat.

She found nothing, and so she ate the mushrooms, then drank some water from a nearby spring which she had found on the second day. The water was cool and refreshing, and made her start to think about her future. There was no telling how long it would be before a ship came by to save her, and she wouldn't be able to live off the land for much longer. Every day she found fewer and fewer things to eat, and every day her only dress grew more and more ragged and unusable. She wondered if she might be able to build a boat herself. It was a possibility.

She groaned, noting that she had no tools to cut trees with, and that she would only be able to build a small raft, which would probably never make it to England. She would just drown when the boat sunk, and all of her efforts at survival from the past weeks would have been in vain. She shook her head, casting away that idea.

There was a noise behind her and she turned in shock, wondering what was there. She had seen only a few tropical birds and seagulls while she had been on the island, and no other animals of any kind. But the creature she saw was no animal. Viola closed her eyes, trying to wish it away, praying silently and fervently that it wouldn't hurt her.

Will groaned and got up. His whole body ached. That, though, was no wonder, since he had fallen asleep at his writing-table, his quill in hand. He set his mouth in frustration when he noticed that the ink had all but dried up overnight. Now he would have to buy more, and that was expensive. He had long since spent the money he had won from Viola's husband, and now he was almost broke. Since the Rose Theater had closed and he had been forced to sell his plays to Richard Burbage, he rarely saw a penny, except at the completion of his works. Most annoying, but Richard knew his ways well by now, and he would not fall for Will's tricks, especially when he knew that Will had no one else to sell his plays to.

Will looked outside. People were busy in the streets. London was bustling, as usual, and he sighed longingly. He wondered if he would ever love life again, for since Viola had gone to Virginia, he had been moody and distraught. He took pleasure in nothing except drink, and though his plays were very well-received by the Queen and by the London public, even that could not comfort him, for he had found that success was meaningless unless you had someone to share it with.

There was a knock on the door, and Richard Burbage walked in. He was dressed as a fine actor should dress, wearing very expensive clothing, all the latest fashion. He looked quite dashing, and was even shaved. Will smiled as pleasantly as possible, wondering tiredly why Richard should decide to call on him at this of all times, when he was feeling most tired and sad. He sorely missed Viola, the only true love he had ever known, but he did not admit that to anyone, not even the apothecary, to whom he made his daily confessions. But Richard did not appear to notice Will's apparent moodiness, and began to speak in a most gallant fashion.

"Mr. Shakespeare, I have come to ask you some questions about your new play. You know that we are having problems finding someone to play the lady Katherine? Well, now we cannot even find someone in the streets to play the lady. Of course, we can, but those we have found are unsatisfactory. I have come to ask your help. You know famous actors, don't you? Could you perhaps find someone willing to play a shrewish wife? Or would that be too controversial a role?"

Will rubbed his eyes, making stars erupt in them. His stomach rumbled, but he ignored it. He was so used to hunger, now that he had barely enough money to buy writing supplies.

"I don't know, Richard. I've sort of lost touch with the more brilliant actors in London. They don't talk to me much anymore, now that I've got steady work for one of the more successful playhouses. They think it's against the writer's code of honor to work for such high wages. Of course, they don't know what I go through every day," Will said wryly, and Richard smiled congenially. He resented the remark, but he said nothing because he knew that William Shakespeare was a very popular playwright he could not afford to lose.

"Could you at least help us and search for someone? We are desperate. It has been almost a month now that we are searching. And we have found no one. We had thought not to disturb you, since you are busy enough every day writing the play, but now we really need your help. You could perhaps talk to the Queen sometime, when you are assisting a production of yours at the Palace. She might want to help you, since she's such a merciful soul and has taken such an interest in you." Richard's voice was almost pitiful.

Will sighed. He stood and walked over to the small stool by his bed, on which stood a decanter filled with ale. He took a swig, and smiled. Drink always made him feel better, no matter what. It was one of the few sure things in this world.

"I'll do what I can, Richard, but I'm not promising anything. Just continue as you've been doing. You don't need to worry too much about such a small matter."

Slightly more at ease, Richard smiled and tipped his hat to Will. He turned to go, but paused in the doorway.

"And let me remind you, Will, that it is your own play at stake here."

"Yes, yes, I know that already. I may be a poor drunk, but I am not a fool."

Richard smiled in that knowing way he sometimes had, then left, closing the door behind him. Left once again in solitude, Will lay down on his bed and tried to sleep off his hangover from the previous night.


	2. New People

Chapter Two

The man took a step toward Viola, and she cringed. But she calmed down when she noticed that he was well-groomed, and wore a nice, new outfit which was made of silk. Anyone who was not ragged and forlorn-looking was alright with her. Though Viola wondered how he could look so neat if he, too, was stranded on this island.

"Hello there, I'm Sir Thomas Kentworth," he said, taking a step forward and holding out a hand. Viola in turn stood, and curtsied, but did not shake the hand offered to her.

"Viola de Lesseps, sir. I was stranded here when the boat carrying my husband and myself to Virginia was wrecked during a storm," she said, her voice cool and respectful.

Sir Thomas smiled, and watched her, taking her in. Viola wondered if he would ever stop looking at her, because it felt odd, but he soon stopped and continued to speak.

"I thought you were alone on this island… I heard you walking around yesterday noon, looking for food. You ate some strawberries and mushrooms, if I remember well. I did not know you had a husband. Where is he?" Sir Thomas said, looking innocent. Viola was slightly shocked by the fact that he knew so much about her already, while she knew nothing about him besides his name.

"Forgive my error of speech. My _late_ husband. He perished in the storm which shipwrecked me and killed all the sailors."

Viola's tone was cold, but slightly friendly. It had been a while since she had spoken to someone other than herself, and it felt good. But despite her long weeks away from the structured world of English society, she had not forgotten her manners, and knew she must not be too friendly with this stranger.

"Forgive me, my lady, if I offended. I did not realize. Anyway, the reason of my abrupt intrusion on your privacy is that I would like to offer you a journey back to England. You see, I am a merchant by trade and frequently travel between Virginia and London, and during these journeys I enjoy stopping by this small island and resting. It is quiet and peaceful, as no city is, and I like to hear the quiet lapping of the waves without the cries of sailors doing their business near me. I noticed you yesterday, and felt rather sorry for you, but did not feel that it would have been gentlemanly to intrude upon you when you were so deep in your thoughts. It might have startled you half to death, and I could not have borne that. In any case, I was hoping you would like to come with me. It is only a four-week journey back to London, and I am sure that your parents would love to see you again, despite your widowhood," he smiled sweetly, as if denying culpability for having overheard her speaking to herself the day before. Viola blushed.

"That is a very generous offer, sir. You are most kind, and I would love to accept. I have so been longing to get back to London."

Viola's heart soared, for she thought eagerly of returning to Will, to his plays, and to the city she knew so well, which was so familiar to her.

Sir Thomas smiled knowingly, as if guessing her thoughts. Viola frowned, not liking him too well. But he was her only means of getting back home safely, or of getting home at all. She smiled at him and took the arm he held out to her, and they started to walk in some direction, probably towards Sir Thomas' ship.

"By the way, my lady, I have several spare dresses in the cabin. They are leftovers from what I brought to Virginia. They were too expensive for the ladies there to afford."

Viola looked down at her tattered gown and blushed. Yes, it was embarrassing to be seen in this, she thought gloomily, fingering a rather large hole in the material. And though it was not ladylike to accept such a large gift from a gentleman, she decided that it might be alright this one time, given the circumstances.

The streets of London were even more crowded than they had been that morning, and Will fought against the crowd, trying to make his way to the alehouse, determined to find human company. He had woken from his nap to find that he was unable to get back to sleep, and as he had begun to think longingly of Viola, he decided that he must find someone to talk to, and to avoid being alone with his thoughts at all costs.

The alehouse was dark and dank, the wood tables and chairs sagging because of constant use. But no one was there, except for a few street people with nothing better to do, a boy who was playing lonesomely with a little dog in a corner, and the bartender, who looked bored beyond imagining. But the bartender smiled eagerly when he saw Will, for he was fond of Will and of his plays. And he knew that Will could never resist ale, and that he would always pay back his debts, unlike some of his other customers. So he never had any qualms about letting Will buy ale on credit.

"Hello, there, Christian," Will said cheerily, trying to fake happiness. Sometimes he didn't care who saw him when he was moody. Now was not one of those times.

"Hello Will, how are you? How's life treating you? Well, I hope. Myself, I haven't been having such a good time. A couple of rats managed to steal a case of ale, and that was worth a couple of pounds. Anyway, how are you, Will?"

"Oh, I'm alright. But I need to ask you a favor, Christian. I'm working on this new play, you see, but we're one actor short. No one wants to play a shrewish wife name Kate, who never listens to anyone and always drives men away. I don't know why, since it's such a brilliant part. It's a comedy, and my critics at the theater say that Kate is the liveliest character, apart from Petruchio, her husband. In any case, Christian, I need you to help me find someone who wouldn't mind playing a shrew."

Christian nodded knowingly and passed Will a glass of ale. Will moved his hand toward his purse, but Christian shook his head.

"On the house, my friend. My problems are nothing compared to yours. And yes, I'll help out. I know quite a few lads who would do anything for money. Like that one over there," he said, pointing towards the boy in the corner, who didn't even look up. He appeared to have not heard the mention of himself.

"Yes, but we need someone with talent. It would look so odd to have a set of brilliant actors in minor parts, and then to have a silly little street urchin in the main part."

"Don't worry, Will, that one has talent. Sometimes I get him to do work for me, and once or twice I caught him trying to act out lines from your last play. He's a very good actor, if I do say so myself. And I know these things. Anyway, Will, I would talk to him. He'll do anything you ask for money, and likes theater, so he might put in extra work for the pleasure of being on stage."

Will eyed his friend suspiciously, but Christian seemed unfazed. He saw too many characters during the week to care much about one silly playwright's suspicions. He nodded at Will, and pointed in the boy's direction.

Will stood up and walked over to the boy, who looked up at him when he came near. His face was a little dirty, but mostly clean. He had mouse-brown hair, freckles, pale skin, and bright brown eyes. The dog he had been playing with ran away while his attention wavered, but the boy didn't notice.

"Hello, I'm William Shakespeare," Will said as a form of introduction, bending down as he spoke so that he was on the boy's level.

"Yes, I know. I've seen you come in here a few times, and I heard some people calling you by name. I'm George Darkins. What can I do for you, sir?" the boy said in a calm voice, devoid of emotion. He spoke with a thick Cockney, but Will was sure that he knew how to speak like a cultured person.

"I am working on a new play, and I need someone to play a shrewish wife. The problem is, no one wants the part. So Christian there told me that you might want to help me, since you're such a fan of the theater. And I would pay you good money. I work over at the Globe Theater, and it's doing quite handsomely."

George looked pensive, but smiled finally.

"I do like theater, very much. Me own father was an actor. Died a while ago, though. And sure, I'd be willing to help you, for some money. I don't mind playing a shrewish wife. The part's all the same to me. I just like to act."

"Good boy. Come to the theater tomorrow then, around noontime, and I'll see how you can act. Then we can get you in costume and acquainted with the text, and then we'll start rehearsing. It's a good play, boy, and I'm sure it will be a success. It's a comedy."

Will rose, smiling at the boy, who smiled back, showing teeth that were rather white. Will wondered why Richard was so incapable of finding talent. London simply reeked of it. Shaking his head, he made his exit from the alehouse.


	3. The Boat

Chapter Three

Sir Thomas' ship was large and spacious, and Viola's rooms were comfortable. She had a cabin all her own, complete with bed, dresser, and a wardrobe full of expensive dresses left over from Sir Thomas' trades. All the furniture was nailed down to the floor to prevent them from rolling about the cabin during the journey.

The sailors were also nice, and welcomed Viola aboard cheerfully. It had been a while since they had been in female company, and liked Viola's spirit and eagerness to learn about sailing. And though they knew she was a lady, they still delighted in telling her gruesome sea-stories and teaching her how to sail.

She ate her meals in Sir Thomas' rooms, but spent her days with the sailors, learning everything they already knew and enjoying life. Her pale face, which had been her mother's pride, was now freckled from her time in the sun, and though she didn't mind, she wondered what the Court would think if they saw her now. She also knew that she could not be criticized for not staying out of the sun, for it was impossible while stranded on a desert island. So she spent as much time outdoors as possible, knowing that it would be her last for a while.

She enjoyed not being a lady. She drank ale with the sailors in the evenings, sang ballads with them under the stars, and enjoyed listening to their crude jokes which they told each other while working. It was fun, and she relished it. And they, in turn, did not try to dissuade her from spending time with them, for they liked the spunky, high-born widow whose husband had perished at sea, barely a month after their marriage. They thought it a tragic love story, and thought Viola quite brave for putting up with her loss so well, but if some of the sailors were curious about how she could act so uncaring about the death of her husband, they soon forgot it as soon as Viola came near and began to sing in her soprano voice some song which they had taught her.

At night everyone gathered on the deck to hear stories, and it was on one such night that Viola told them of William Shakespeare. Being worldly men, they had heard of the playwright, but did not know very much about him. And they listened eagerly to Viola's tale, for it promised to be an interesting one. Even Sir Thomas, who usually yawned boredly during the nightly tales, leaned in towards Viola, a rapt, intent look on his face.

"The first time I ever spoke to Will Shakespeare was during an audition. I was auditioning to play Romeo in Romeo and Juliet, and I recited a monologue from one of his plays. This play had not been well-received by the London community, and when I recited it, he seemed taken by me and by my acting. I had been posing as a boy to get the part, so I ran frightened through the streets of London, trying to get to the Thames so that I could cross the river and reach home, where presumably I would be safe. But Will followed me home, and gave a message to my nurse, asking her to tell me that he would like for me to be in his play. I readily accepted the offer, and I become Romeo. It was very amusing, and he seemed taken by my acting. And believe me, I had always wanted to be an actor. But it isn't allowed for a woman to act, and so I knew that my dream was unreal. But this opportunity was too good to be true, and I tried my hardest to be satisfying to its author.

"In any case, one day Will found out about my being a girl. He followed me home, and he stood outside my balcony window, calling for me until I came outside. Oh, how exciting! And one night he even came upstairs into my room! I learned the whole play by heart, and I loved every minute of it. Will was my idol, a god in my eyes. And to be a personal friend of his was an honor beyond measure. But one day the police found out about my being a girl, and I was shunned from theater. And the Rose Theater, where the play was to be performed, was closed. Lucky for Will, Richard Burbage, the owner of the Globe Theater, was kind enough to offer him the use of his own theater for the exposition of the play. Everything seemed to be going well. But then the actor who was to play Juliet could no longer play the role, and they were in a fix. And I was watching the play, and overheard two of the workers talking. And I told them that I knew the part of Juliet, and they had me go onstage as Juliet. It was so very exciting! I loved every minute of it. I acted my heart out, and the play was very well received, especially by the Queen. She even offered to look at some more of Will's plays. And then I went to Virginia with my husband, but our ship was sunk, and now here I am."

She smiled at her audience, who was by now in tears, touched by her story of womanly courage. Sir Thomas began to clap, and all of the sailors followed suit.

"That was beautiful, Lady Viola! Simply beautiful!" Tom, one of the sailors, said, whimpering slightly. His face was bleary with tears, and if everyone else hadn't been crying too, he would have been laughed at.

"Thank you, everyone. It means a lot to me that you enjoyed my story. And it's true, too, in case some of you had any doubts," Viola smiled sweetly, folding her hands in her lap and looking rather out-of-place, sitting on a barrel like a sailor and wearing an expensive dress in the latest fashion.

"Is Will still in London?" asked Tom, his voice reverent. Many of the other sailors repeated this question with curiosity, wondering if Lady Viola's one true love was waiting for her to return.

Viola smiled and sighed, lapsing into a short day-dream, remembering Will. Oh, how she had missed him! And his plays! She had missed those almost as much as she had missed him! She sighed again, then came back to earth.

"Well, I don't know for certain, to be honest. I've been gone for nearly two months now. I don't know what's been going on in London. He might have moved. And he might not remember me too well-"

"That would never happen, Lady Viola! No one could ever forget a character as lovely as you!" interrupted someone. Viola blushed.

"That's very kind of you, but I don't deserve such praise."

"What! Of course you do, Viola. Everyone knows you do. Why, you're the toughest person here, and you're a lady as well. No one could forget a person such as that," Sir Thomas protested. Viola smiled at such praised. During her weeks at sea she had learned that Sir Thomas was a very kind and cordial person, but very cold and private. He never warmed up to anyone, and apparently had no trusted friends on board. So she was very touched that he thought of her that way.

"That's very sweet of you, Sir Thomas. Coming from you, that means…"

Her voice trailed off, and the boat started to rock. The whole world spinned and stars erupted in her eyes. She rubbed them, trying to ward off the feeling of sickness. She couldn't. She could hear muffled mutterings, but paid them no mind. She could barely think. And then everything passed into darkness.


	4. The Actor

Chapter Four

Will sat on a bench in the balcony at the Globe Theater, awaiting the arrival of George Darkins, the boy he had asked to come audition to play a shrewish wife in his new play. He was the only person in London who might have talent and who would actually sound like a girl instead of a cheap street-dweller looking for money. But apparently George had either forgotten or had decided that he would rather not act for him.

Will sighed and stood up. It was hopeless. If only Viola were still here in London, she could play Kat for him. She would be brilliant at it, and Will wouldn't have the problem of trying to find an actor. But Viola was in Virginia with her awful husband. He shuddered at the thought, pitying his lover.

"Excuse me?" came a voice from the stage. "I'm here for Mr. William Shakespeare."

Will had begun to daydream, and so hadn't noticed when George had walked onto the stage and had looked around for him. In shock, he noticed that the boy was turning to leave, apparently finding no one at the theater.

"I'm here, George!" Will called loudly, hoping the boy would hear. He did. George turned and smiled at Will.

"I thought you'd forgotten about me sir. That or you were trying to avoid me, having actually thought about your offer and seen how silly it was of you to offer me a position in your play."

Will laughed.

"Don't be silly, boy, I have no one else. So either one of those ideas wouldn't be possible. I sorely need you. And if what Christian says is true, and you have some talent, then I would be glad if you could be in some more of my plays. I always need someone to play the girls."

George grinned and bowed proudly. It was an elegant bow, one which even Will had trouble reproducing, and so had never fully learned it. But he was impressed, and clapped loudly, the sound resonating in the empty theater.

"What can you act for me now, boy?" Will asked in a kind, slightly mocking tone. He was slightly skeptical of the boy's ability to act, but kept it as much to himself as possible. This boy was the only field open to him right now, and more than anything else, he wanted his play to be seen by the masses.

"I would like to act out a scene from Romeo and Juliet. I will be playing Juliet, since I would be a girl in your plays," George said, his voice slightly nervous but loud. Will noted with satisfaction that he could hear the boy's voice perfectly well from up in the balcony. He might actually have some talent after all.

George then recited a scene which Will had not heard spoken aloud since the day when Viola had stepped in and had played Juliet for him. He breathed in sharply, and closed his eyes tight, fighting the memories. Oh, how he missed Viola! She had been the only true joy he had ever known, and he wished that it had not been a temporary joy. Oh, how fleeting their love had been! How short! He sighed, and tried to listen to George's words. But he found that he could not, for he kept trying to block out the words, to forget George's voice, and to imagine that it was Viola, not George, speaking them. It was impossible. He could not imagine Viola, and he could not completely block out George. It was a painful experience. But he nonetheless gave George a standing ovation at the end of his recitation.

"Bravo, my young sir! You will be my Katherine! The public will love you, and you will be a huge star! In any case, sir, it is my lunch-hour, and I wish to eat something. Perhaps you should do the same. But be back here at the theater in two hours, for the rehearsal. I'm sure that Richard will be very pleased to know how easily I found an actor for him," Will mused aloud. George bowed, and started to make his way out of the theater.

"Sir," he said, turning. "If it would be alright with you, I would like to get your signature. You see, I have a friend who is a big fan of your work."

Will smiled. The last person he had known who had truly loved his work to the point of passion was Viola. Perhaps he and George might get along rather well. His actions kept reminding him of his lost love. He did not like to dwell in the past, but it was pleasant. And perhaps he could form some sort of friendship with this child, who seemed so tormented. Perhaps he could even act as a father. He had never been fond of children, indeed, had once cursed them, but now, looking upon George, so sweet and innocent-looking, he could not help but feel pity for the poor child and want to help him. Yes, perhaps George was a new opportunity for him, just as Viola had been. He could feel the beginning of a new age in his life unfolding.

"Yes, I would be pleased to give you my signature. But I will only give it after the rehearsal, so see to it that you come. I would hate to lose my main actor. You see, without Katherine, there would be no play."

The two smiled at each other, and George disappeared backstage. Will shook his head, and began to climb down the narrow stairwell which led to the main floor of the theater. It was noon, he was hungry, and he had several pence which Richard had given him as compensation for having actually helped in the search for an actor. The nearby alehouse would be a pleasant refuge.


	5. A Reunion and Some News

Chapter Five

Viola awoke in her cabin. She felt weak and tired, and she could only just barely distinguish Sir Thomas and Charlie, the ship's doctor, standing over her, worried expressions on their faces.

"Oh, good, you're awake!" Sir Thomas said, smiling tiredly at Viola. His face was lined and looked very old, very weary. She smiled blearily back at him, trying to reassure him of her well-being.

"What happened?" she asked, and rubbed her forehead. She could hardly remember anything. Her head hurt very badly, as if she had hit it. She tried not to wince at the pain.

"You fainted, my Lady. While you were telling us a story, you just up and fainted. You've been asleep for a few hours," Charlie informed her. She bit her lip. She had never fainted in her life. She wondered why she should now, all of a sudden. She wasn't seasick or anything. She had never been.

"I'll leave you to rest, Viola. I'll check in on you in a while. Don't stress yourself too much. None of us on board could bear to see you hurt yourself."

Sir Thomas stood and left the cabin, which was dark and lit only by one candle which sat on the table by Viola's bed. The door to the cabin closed with a soft clatter, and there was a note of finality and foreboding to that sound.

"Viola, I have something important to tell you, and you may not like it," Charlie said quietly. Viola tried to sit up, suddenly worried by the tone in his voice, but found she could not. She sank back onto the pillows with a groan.

"What is it?" she asked warily. She hoped it was not life-threatening.

"Well, you're going to have a baby. You're about four months along," Charlie said, twisting his hands nervously. He was embarrassed by the indecency of the situation, for never before had he to tell a woman such news. Viola, too, blushed crimson, and looked at her waist. She had been wondering why she had been gaining weight so rapidly, despite her small appetite. She had first noticed it on the island, and had thought it rather strange because of the few things available to eat.

"Oh," she managed to say after a pause, and then relapsed into her thoughts. She hardly noticed when Charlie made his quiet exit from her presence, feeling that he didn't need to stay there any longer. Her silence was oppressive to him, and he was eager to get back to men, who didn't have such problems.

In Viola's mind there was no doubt as to who the father could be. It was Will. He was the only man who had ever made love to her. She had never had an opportunity during her marriage, for right after the ceremony she was whisked off to the ship, upon which love-making was difficult. She beamed, proud of the tiny child she was carrying, proud of the playwright who had fathered it. But then her face fell.

During the entire journey she had looked forward to seeing Will again. She knew that he wouldn't mind taking her back, even after her failed marriage. But now there was doubt in her mind.

She knew about his wife, and the children that he never saw. Suppose that when she told him he would not take to the news, and try to run away from her? What would she do then? She could always try to pass the child off as one from her marriage, but Will wouldn't be fooled. He would know. He would never want to see her again, for he hated children, as far as she knew. He never wanted to see his wife, and he had once told her that the only reason he had married was because his wife was carrying his first child. But she wouldn't have that opportunity, for she had been previously married. And he would have the right to never see her again. If she had been his wife, she would have gotten to see him sometimes, to avoid being ridiculed by the town, but she was not in that position. He would never speak to her again.

And what if he did still care about her, even if she told him? He would want to see the child, and she couldn't do that. She would have to tell the world that it was the only descendant of her dead husband, and then Will would have no rights over it. He would only see it when he visited her at home, and that hardly ever happened. Oh, what a horrible position she was in! And she was barely a week away from home!

Only a week to ponder things! Only a week to try and decide what to do with her life! Only a week! Such a thought was intolerable to Viola. She couldn't bring herself to face the sailors, who had come to regard her as one of them, and to have her femininity brought into play so close to the end of their voyage, when she had already earned their friendship and trust… She spent the remaining week at sea in her cabin, pleading illness. Her only visitors were Sir Thomas and Charlie, who came to check up on her medical state. And the freckles which she had come to love as a sign of her independence from society began to fade and disappear, leaving her skin as white and flawless as it had ever been.

They docked in London in the morning. Viola left the boat, holding on to Sir Thomas' arm for support. She had no luggage, though Sir Thomas had kindly offered to give her the dresses she had worn, but she refused. The only dress she took from him was a pale blue one which hid her thickening figure slightly, and a dark blue cape to keep out the chill early morning frost.

"Do you want me to escort you home?" Sir Thomas questioned, looking slightly sad at the imminence of their parting.

"No, I have a few stops to make before I return to my parents," she said, smiling sweetly. She was eager to find Will and tell him her news, however afraid she was of his reaction.

"All right, then. You can find me here at the docks every few months. I'll try to call on you sometimes. Your friendship is much valued, my lady."

They smiled at each other, then parted ways. Viola started to walk through the streets of London, so familiar to her. She inhaled deeply the smells of the city, and avoided the piles of muck which she had grown up so accustomed to. The first stop she made was to Will's house.

She knocked timidly on the door, wondering if he might be home. She knew that he might be at the theater, rehearsing a new play, or at the alehouse, but she knew that he was often at home, writing. She hoped that this was one of those times.

"Come in," came a tired, depressed voice from inside. She cringed, at first not recognizing it as Will's. But she slowly opened the door, and peered inside.

The room was torn apart. Papers were strewn across the floor, and used-up quills were thrown into corners. Finished candle stubs were discarded on table tops, and the bed, on which Will lay, was untidy. Will himself was disheveled-looking, unshaven and unbathed. His clothes were dirty and smelly, and Viola wondered what had happened to the eloquent man she had seen last three months ago.

"It's Viola," was all she could say, trying to draw his attention. Will's eyes were closed, as if he was trying to block out the world.

"This is all a joke. A cruel joke. It's my mind playing tricks on me. Viola is not here. Viola is in America, with her husband. Oh, my God, my drinking has finally caught up with me!" Will moaned from his bed. Viola almost laughed. This was the man whom she had seen once, at the exposition of a play. She had been stricken by him, but had not known who he was, then. Perhaps Will had not changed as much as she had feared he might have.

"Open your eyes, you fool, and look at me," she said. Will obeyed, and stared at her open-mouthed for a few moments, as if trying to decide if she was real, or simply a figment of his imagination and over-tired mind.

"Is it really you?" he asked quietly, in a hushed, reverent tone. Viola nodded, smiling to herself.

Will stood up and ran to her, scooping her up in his arms and kissing her. She kissed him back, and it was like old times. Oh, how she had missed him! She was so happy to see him, so happy that he had not forgotten her! But then she came back to herself, and remembered the unpleasant news she had to tell him.

"Will, stop. Stop, please," she said, her voice strained.

"What, are you still married? Did your husband bring you back to London only to torture me?" Will asked angrily, frowning and looking like a monster. Viola laughed.

"No, I was shipwrecked during a storm, and everyone on the ship save myself died. But then I was saved by a merchant who had stopped on the island which I had lived on for a few weeks, and I came back here to London. But Will, I have to tell you something…"

She lost her voice, and was unable to tell him. She couldn't. She didn't have the courage.

"What is it, my cherub? Oh, life is beautiful again! To have you back with me, to have you in my arms, and without fear of your imminent marriage!" He smiled at her, but his smile faded when he saw her face. "What is it?"

"I have something important to tell you, but I'm afraid you'll take it the wrong way," she said, in a desperate attempt to salvage her friendship before it fell apart.

"I won't, I promise. No matter what it is, Viola, I will always love you!" Will said, taking her hands in his and kissing them.

"Oh, Will, I'm just so afraid that you may not be able to keep that promise!"

"I will, Viola, I will," he said encouragingly, curiosity burning in him.

"I'm with child," she said finally, her face turning crimson as she spoke. She had never before said that hateful sentence aloud, and now she loathed having to say it. Will could only stare at her for a minute, then glare hatefully at the floor.

"And whose child is it, may I ask?"

Viola took a deep breath, gathering her strength.

"It's yours."


	6. The Answer

Chapter Six

Will looked up at her, his expression inscrutable. Viola breathed in deeply, trying to guess as to what he was thinking, but it was impossible. She could only stand there, waiting, hoping for the best.

"Really? And you're sure about this?" he asked finally. She nodded.

"You're the only man…" the rest of her sentence dangled in the air, unspoken. Will seemed to understand.

"And what are you going to do?"

"I'm going home now. I'll tell my parents that it was the result of my short-lived marriage. After all, I can't say it's yours. But I'll let you name it, if you like. And you can see it sometimes."

Viola smiled, and stared intently into Will's face. It was a mixture of joy, confusion, and love. Her heart glowed, for she now realized that her friendship might not actually be in jeopardy.

"Yes, I suppose you can't really say that the child isn't a product of your marriage and still have a sound reputation. But I appreciate your open-mindedness, Viola. Will you still see me? And may I still visit you?"

"Why wouldn't you be able to? And why wouldn't I? I still love you with my whole being. The very core of myself is dedicated entirely to you. You are the only man I have truly loved with my whole heart, and I couldn't bring myself to never see you again. Not when I am so very close to you, after such an ordeal…"

Their lips joined in a quick kiss, but this time it was Will who pulled away.

"What is it?" Viola asked, a worried look on her face. She did not know what was wrong now, after she had thought that everything would be all right.

"How can I kiss you, how can I even love you, after I managed to get you with child? I am not worthy of you, Viola, and I never will be. I was too in love with you before to even notice it, but now I cannot ignore it," he told her, his voice resigned and depressed.

She took a step back, staring thunderstruck at him. He didn't love her after all! He had forgotten all about her while she was away! She was no longer the object of his desires, no longer the thing around which his work was centered! Oh, how awful!

"What are you talking about, Will? I love you, and you love me! That is all that matters! And I am carrying your child, the child which we created while you were creating your play! Oh, that blessed play! How can you simply walk away?"

She fell to the floor, crying, her face in her hands. Will rushed to her and encircled her in his strong arms, arms so familiar, so comforting to her. But she pulled away.

"You don't love me anymore, you truly don't. You're just doing this because I am a frail woman who needs comforting. Well, I don't. I don't need you, Will Shakespeare. You'll never see this child, or me, ever again! And I will never see one of your plays again, either!"

She stormed out into the streets, her tearstained face set in angry determination. She walked quickly down the street to the boat landing, where she hired a boat to take her home.

Will sat on the floor, still too shocked by what had happened to move. He, but a single sentence, had destroyed the one thing in his life which he held dear. The only thing which he had ever loved, loved with a passion that was more than simply lusting, was now gone from his life, probably forever.

The realization that he was the father of a child was something he was not unused to, but now it struck him like a blow, exactly as it had when Anne had told him. But this was a thousand times worse, for now he had lost Viola.

He had longed for her so much those long months when she had been gone, and now that she had returned, rather than welcome her into his arms, rejoice over her pregnancy, he had driven her away, driven her back to the home of her parents, and back to the oppressive society in which she had been forced to marry a man she not only didn't love, but loathed. He had thrown away happiness with both hands, and now he was as forlorn as ever.

He stood up and walked back to his bed, and sat on it, staring blankly into space. Not even the thought that he should probably get to the theater and help Richard at the rehearsal could get him to move. It was as if he was nailed to the bed, and could not move from it. The only thing he could do was go over the last few moments, trying to remember exactly why he had driven Viola away.

"Oh, Viola!" he moaned sadly, burying his face in his hands and beginning to cry like an infant. He could not even be glad that no one was there to see him cry. The only feeling he had was one of horrorstruck numbness.

The whole evening passed like that, and when darkness fell and he could no longer tolerate the loneliness, he managed to stumble out into the streets and into the alehouse, where he spent all of his money, drinking himself into oblivion. At least now he was a little happier, and could forget about Viola for a time. Oh, Viola!


	7. Viola's Return Home

Chapter Seven

Viola's heart was heavy as the man slowly steered the boat towards the shore on which her home stood, looming ever closer. She wondered if she would ever be able to call it home again. It was the place where her parents had sold her off to the highest bidder, and where she had slept with that horrid playwright. But maybe if her nurse was still there, she could feel more comfortable, like she had at least one true friend.

She paid the boatman with a coin she had been given by Sir Thomas, and she walked sedately up the walk, trying not to rush. She had no great need to enter that house.

Instead of using the back door, the way she usually did when she was alone, she walked around to the front of the house. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, preparing for the moment when she would have to explain what had happened to her. Then she knocked, the heavy brass knocker making a deep, resonating sound within the house.

The maid opened. She had always been a dim-witted creature, and it took her a moment to recognize her mistress. Then she screamed and ran up the stairs, yelling so that the whole house might hear, "Lady Viola is back! Lady Viola is back!"

Viola took a small step into the house, looking around apprehensively. She had thought never to return here, and now she wished she was still speaking to Will, so that she might stay by his side.

The entire household was soon gathered about her, summoned by the maid. They gazed at her in wonder, no one daring to speak, afraid it was not her. And she did not feel like talking to them, having never felt too kindly for the people who so diligently did her parents' bidding.

Soon her nurse arrived, sobbing with joy, dabbing at her cheeks with her apron. She rushed up to Viola and hugged her, repeating over and over, "I thought you'd never return!"

"Good Nurse!" Viola said when they had separated. "How wonderful to see you! You look well."

The nurse smiled a little, though waving a hand to dismiss Viola's comments.

"You know well that I am no longer your nurse, dear Lady, for now you are married. And where, pray tell, is your husband?"

Viola's expression hardened, and she said nothing. The whole household leaned forward to hear, thinking she was about to whisper something to the nurse, but the nurse nodded in understanding, knowing that her charge did not wish to speak of it.

"Viola? Is it you?"

Viola turned her head to see her mother descending the stairs, smiling cheerfully. She was elegantly clad in the finest silks, and Viola knew that she had gone to the market to celebrate her daughter's marriage. And even though she was her own mother, she could not help despising the woman.

"Yes, Mother, I am here," Viola said coldly, all emotion finally drained out of her. She had experienced too much that day to be able to feel anger towards this stranger.

"Dearest, I thought you were in Virginia! What happened?" Lady de Lesseps asked as she embraced her daughter.

"We were shipwrecked. Lord Wessex is dead," she said calmly, without looking at her mother as she spoke.

There was a collective intake of breath from the household. Her mother embraced her once more, apparently feeling that her daughter needed consoling after the death of a much-hated husband.

"Dearest, how dreadful! To be widowed in less than a month! At least you are alive. God is merciful, to have spared your life. But how you must be grieving! Surely you will want some time to yourself. We have kept your room intact, you may go there to rest. I must write to your father with this most horrible news. Nurse, take Viola upstairs. And do be gentle, for she is a broken soul," Lady de Lesseps instructed.

The Nurse obliged, carefully leading her charge away from the prying eyes of the servants. She locked the door when they arrived, and barred the windows, as she was sure the Lady would wish. Viola said nothing, however, and sat silently on the edge of her bed, staring straight ahead at nothing.

"Nurse, he does not love me."

The nurse did not need a name to know of whom Viola was speaking. She said nothing, and continued her work, waiting for the rest of the story, which was sure to come.

"I went by his home after I arrived. I had to see him, for I have important news. I am with child."

There was a gasp on the Nurse's part, and she smiled, happy that her charge should experience the joys of motherhood, even though they are thanks to Lord Wessex.

"But the child is not my late husband's, dear Nurse, it is that of my lover. And I told him, and now he despises me. I am alone now, and I must pretend to grieve for my husband while carrying his child. What a cruel world this is!"

The nurse rushed forward to comfort the child, but she was brushed away.

"Spare the pity, dear Nurse, for I need it not. I wish to be alone for the moment. I shall speak to you later, for now I cannot speak of these things. Know that I do this not out of spite of you, but out of grief."

The nurse nodded, hearing the sorrow and pain in Viola's voice. She understood, knowing the girl better than even Will Shakespeare. Had it not been she who had raised Viola since infancy?

Curtsying, she left the room, quietly closing the door behind herself so as not to disturb Viola. She made sure to leave the key on the nightstand where Viola was sure to find it, should she feel herself in need of privacy.


	8. Promise you won't scream

Chapter Eight

Viola's life continued as it had before. Nearly every day she accompanied her mother on visits to friends, who falsely grieved with her for the loss of her husband. And they all pretended to be overjoyed for her, that she was to have a child, who would remind her of her lost love. That she agreed with, though she was not as happy as they at the news. Her mother seemed pleased after every visit, and it never occurred to her that her friends might not be entirely truthful.

She seemed to be numb, caring nothing at all about anything life offered her. She became intensely quiet, a trait heretofore denied her, and though her mother noticed no change about her, her nurse became worried, and soon sought to find a cure for her charge's illness. But Viola seemed to be immune to all the herbal teas, amusing books, and friendly ears offered to her by her nurse, and continued to pass every day in the same uncaring state as she had returned home in.

But one day, as she and her mother were shopping in London, she happened to see Will. She had been obediently following her mother, a straw basket filled with purchases hanging from her arm and her condition badly disguised by a heavy cloak, and she had happened to look up just as Will was exiting a shop. Their eyes met, and she quickly looked away, tears springing to her eyes. She hastened her steps, and her mother never noticed that anything was wrong. For the ignorant woman had been crediting her daughter's random bouts of uncontrollable crying to the loss of her husband, and had long ago started to ignore Viola whenever one happened upon her.

But Will, upon a sudden impulse, followed her, keeping his distance until he was sure Viola was unaware of his presence. Then, hurrying, he grabbed her from behind and held her mouth so that she was incapable of screaming, and pulled her into an alley.

"Promise you won't scream," he whispered in her ear. He felt her gasp, recognizing his voice, and nod slowly. She turned to face him, staring at him in shock as well as in an expression of confusion, as if she didn't know how to react to their meeting.

"Will," she said at last. He nodded acknowledgement, and her hands quickly flew to her stomach. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"As did I, Milady," he said simply, in as respectable a tone as he could muster.

They looked at each other a moment, and then she held a hand to her head. Will rushed forward to support her.

"I'm fine, I just feel a bit faint," she explained.

"Here, come sit," he instructed, and led her to a wood crate abandoned on the side of the alley. Obligingly, she sat, looking up at him.

"How is the child?" he asked finally. She rubbed her stomach, smiling truthfully for the first time in ages.

"It's well," she said simply, not sure she could go into detail with him.

"And yourself?"

"I am also well. I am living with my parents now. My father is the trustee of my wealth now. It greatly pleases him to think his daughter so wealthy," Viola answered, the last bit slipping out of her mouth before she even thought about it. Will smiled.

Will knelt down before her, and she gasped at the sudden movement.

"Viola, I am in constant pain since you walked out of my life. The sun has forever set on my art, on my soul. I am without light, without love. Nothing, no person, can satisfy me, for I am forever tormented by my action. Please, Viola, accept my apology and forgive me, so that I may once again enjoy your love and friendship," he said.

She looked at him a moment, her brain in tumult. She had been awaiting this moment for months, not sleeping for dreaming of it, and yet now it caught her off-guard. She drew in a steadying breath, her head beginning to feel light.

"I forgive you, Will," she breathed.

She awoke in a strange bed, all her clothes save her undergarments removed, and a wet cloth being pressed to her forehead by Ned Alleyn.

"I don't know when she'll awake, Will, there's no telling with these things," Ned was saying.

Viola said nothing, and watched as Will paced the room and Ned wetted the cloth in a bowl by his side.

"Oy! She's awoken!" he called, and Will rushed forth to her side, grinning like a madman.

"Hello, Will," Viola said with a small smile.

"Hello," he said, too happy to care what he said.

Ned smiled, touched by this young love.

"Well, if I'm no longer needed, I suppose I'll leave," he said, standing to leave. Viola and Will paid no mind, busy staring into each other's eyes.

"I thank God nothing happened to you," Will said as the door closed behind Ned.

"At sea?"

"Yes, and just now. I feared for your life, Viola, and for the child's," he agreed, suddenly become serious. Viola attempted a smile.

"You know I'm strong," she said cheerfully, though faintly.

"But no one is stronger than the cruel hand of Death," Will whispered. Viola fell silent, finding no argument for this. She tried to sit up, but Will pushed her back down. "Rest, you are not yet strong enough to stand," he instructed.

"But my mother will be wondering where I am," Viola said. He put a finger to her lips, silencing her.

"I will send Ned to your house, to quiet her fears. I am sure she would not object to you spending one night in my house," Will said. Viola laughed.

"I am sure she would have many objections, but I doubt she would wish to have me die," she explained. Will smiled.

"Rest, whilst I dispatch Ned to your house. I will return in a minute."

He paused in the doorway, and turned to look at her. She laughed, and weakly motioned for him to leave, and he obeyed, glancing at her as the door closed behind him.


End file.
